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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898061">The professor's muse</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_fighter_like_Eowyn/pseuds/A_fighter_like_Eowyn'>A_fighter_like_Eowyn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Boys In Love, Comfort, Comfort Reading, Comfort/Angst, Declarations Of Love, Developing Friendships, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Drama &amp; Romance, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Hurt, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Light Angst, Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Male Friendship, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Slow Romance, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, True Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:41:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,604</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_fighter_like_Eowyn/pseuds/A_fighter_like_Eowyn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier joins a university as a young, vibrant assistant professor of mathematics, and on his very first day, ends up falling in love with a staggeringly handsome, outwardly brooding, insanely talented associate professor of physics named Geralt. But even after weeks of eye-stalking Geralt, he cannot summon the courage to go up to the physicist and introduce himself, much less confess his feelings. That's when a desperate Jaskier decides he will start leaving anonymous gifts for his crush ...</p><p>Until, that is, he learns that Geralt has a boyfriend. Angst ensues ...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eskel &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Lambert, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia &amp; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The professor's muse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier meets Geralt on the very first day of his appointment.</p><p>Well, that he <em>sees</em> Geralt is a more accurate description, and it is a decidedly one-sided meeting, because Geralt stands several feet away from him with his face angled away, but not so much that Jaskier is not able to admire the contours of his staggeringly handsome face. The younger man tries very hard not to ogle, but he cannot deny that he is utterly mesmerized by that sharp, noble nose, that proud, high forehead with its slight widow's peak, and that strong jawline that speaks of determination and indomitable strength of will. He cannot deny that his heart is set aflutter merely looking at those lustrous, luxurious, milk-white tresses cascading down on either side of that stern yet lovely face, framing it oh-so-beautifully, and his stomach does pleasant backflips as his eyes trace the delectably broad shoulders and sculpted chest that are apparent through the snug yet rather sober-looking plain grey shirt Geralt has donned. </p><p>But he cannot see the eyes. He cannot see them because they never look his way.</p><p>Jaskier is new to this university, and he is one of the youngest faculty members as well. He has just finished teaching his first class on probabilistic combinatorics and made his way to the coffee machine that stands invitingly at one corner of the common room, trying to steady his nerves with a hefty dose of strong, freshly brewed coffee - he has been feeling nervous since the day before, imagining all sorts of difficult questions that the students may end up asking - when he runs into an exaggeratedly jovial colleague several years senior to him. The lady strikes up a conversation and Jaskier tries to pay attention despite not wanting to. But then suddenly, she points him towards the other end of the room, and whispers in an almost conspiratorial tone.</p><p>"See that hulking brute? We call him the Sulking Physicist. And the one he is chatting with? Well, more like nodding to her suggestions? That one is the Catty Computer Scientist."</p><p>Jaskier tries not to take offense at her tone or the information she has just spewed to him as if he is in connivance with her in such deliberate vilification of two of his own colleagues. He offers her a perfunctory smile and then moves away, but his eyes do not leave the man and the woman standing on the other side of the room. And while neither of them pays him (or for that matter, anyone else in the room) the slightest attention, Jaskier feels an inexplicable, giddy delight as he watches the woman say something amusing to the man and the man's face crinkles in a moment of mirth, and he thinks he has never seen anyone this gorgeous before.</p><p>*******************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Jaskier finds it very hard to walk up to Geralt and introduce himself. </p><p>He finds out within the first few days that the man whom many (though not all) of his colleagues give a wide berth to, apparently because of his brooding, taciturn demeanour and his predilection for monosyllabic answers and dismissive grunts, is called Geralt, and he is an associate professor of physics. His closest and most trusted friend and confidant, Yennefer, is an equally aloof and outwardly cold woman who is a brilliant computer scientist. And he finds out about Eskel and Lambert - the former a mellow-mannered and quite approachable biophysicist and the latter an organic chemist who is even more reticent and grouchier than Geralt - who constitute the rest of Geralt's closest circle of friends at his workplace.</p><p>Jaskier won't describe himself as shy. Not really. But somehow, he still fails miserably at being able to summon the courage necessary to walk up to Geralt and say hi.</p><p>Geralt, he is relatively certain, is not even aware of his existence. Has no idea how Jaskier's eyes follow him around all day long (well, when the two are in the common room or at the university cafeteria). And he does not know how Jaskier moons over Geralt even when he is in the middle of his lectures, or when he is proctoring an exam, or when he is holding office hours for students. Jaskier isn't sure whether his students or his other colleagues notice anything amiss with him, but he tries his best to put up a brave front throughout the hours he spends inside the university building.</p><p>Geralt mostly comes to the common room accompanied by Yennefer and Eskel, occasionally Lambert. Jaskier sits in one corner, his chalkdust-smeared hands clutching the comfortably warm coffee mug, and his eyes dart around the room, waiting ... waiting ... waiting ... until he sees that dear face come into view. Until he sees Geralt stride into the room, usually a small, subtle frown in place on his beautiful, proud brow. The physicist makes his way to the coffee machine, ignoring everyone else in the room, while the computer scientist and the biophysicist lounge around on a chaise, chatting animatedly while sparing not a single glance towards the other occupants of the common room.</p><p>And all the while, Jaskier watches every minuscule move made by Geralt. He watches how Geralt leans against the wall with his arms crossed, elegant as a languid leopard, as he watches the coffee being brewed, or stands flicking through some journal in his hands. He watches how the man's keen eyes (he is yet to find out what colour they are) focus on the task at hand as he deftly operates the espresso machine, and he observes exactly how Geralt tilts his head (the most adorable head-tilt in the universe - if you ask Jaskier) as he pours the coffee into his "KEEP CALM AND ANALYZE HOW BLACK-HOLES POWER GALACTIC SUPER-WINDS" coffee mug. And Jaskier has memorized by heart precisely how many cubes of sugar and exactly how many spoonfuls of milk Geralt adds to his coffee.</p><p>Jaskier isn't far when Geralt sits down to study in the library. Jaskier tries very hard to keep his eyes glued to the pages of his books and papers on discrete probability and statistical mechanical models, but they nevertheless swivel surreptitiously towards where Geralt sits completely engrossed in his research. Jaskier watches how Geralt's (very kissable, if you care to ask Jaskier) lips press into a thin line and his jaws clench while he furiously types away on his laptop, or how adorable he looks while wearing that perplexed frown as he ponders some especially tricky question on the topic he is absorbed in. Jaskier cannot help the way his body tingles with pleasure as he watches the older man throw back his head and close his eyes when he feels weary, sometimes pushing those brawny arms behind his head and stretching languorously. Jaskier yearns to rush to Geralt's side, to press his palms down on that noble forehead and massage the temples, to knead the tautened muscles of that broad back and knuckle every nob of that throbbing spine, to thread his fingers through those beautiful, flowing, gossamer-white strands and luxuriate in their silky softness, tugging them gently and massaging the scalp until Geralt feels all his tiredness ebb away.</p><p>But of course, Jaskier does none of that. He just sits there and watches Geralt, peering around his own laptop or above the rim of a book held in front of his face, and silently curses his own cowardice. </p><p>Every single day, Jaskier arrives at the cafeteria a few minutes ahead of Geralt, grabs his lunch tray and heads to a spot from where he knows, from all the data he has collected via careful observations in his first few days at the university, that he will have a pretty good view of a certain physicist. And he finds that, within a fortnight of his joining his new job, he has fully succeeded in mentally documenting everything that Geralt likes to order for lunch.</p><p>Jaskier observes how Geralt eats a rather light lunch - opting to forego rice and roti and instead heaping his plate with lots of vegetable curries and yogurt and fruits. He feels warmth spread through him as he watches the man (who, Jaskier has figured out by now, has an insatiable sweet tooth) throw a quick look full of guilt at Yennefer as he stealthily picks up at least one small bowl of mithai for dessert every day. And Jaskier, who has earned a bit of a renown among friends and family as a rather gifted amateur pastry chef, aches to bake something nice - perhaps his signature vanilla sponge cake or his favourite mini chocolate lava cakes - for Geralt. </p><p>But of course, Jaskier does none of that. He picks at his own food morosely, while his mind wanders and fantasizes about a day in the future when he would cook for Geralt, or when they would arrive hand in hand at the café for lunch. </p><p>A day he knows is unlikely to ever dawn in this lifetime.</p><p>******************************************************************************************************************</p><p>In the end, Jaskier becomes too desperate to do nothing about his intense, ever increasing and deepening crush (or is this love?) on his handsome colleague. </p><p>He argues with himself that since he is such a lily-livered coward, he must find an alternative to verbal exchange with his muse. And he comes up with a brilliant plan.</p><p>A few days after Jaskier hatches his master-plan, Geralt is greeted with a tiny, nondescript envelope sitting on the counter next to the coffee machine. He has just arrived at the common room upon the conclusion of his afternoon class, and he is dying to drown his mounting headache in a healthy dose of caffeine, when he spots the brown-paper envelope sitting innocently in front of him.</p><p>He would not have paid it any attention at all, except that he notices, his brow furrowing in confusion, the name that is scribbled in an untidy scrawl on top of the envelope.</p><p>
  <em>"Hi Geralt!"</em>
</p><p>He picks up the envelope gingerly, suspiciously, and opens it ...</p><p>
  <em>... to find a beautiful yellow rose, still not fully opened, sitting inside it.</em>
</p><p>********************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Geralt tries not to stare at the tiny cardboard box that sits unobtrusively on the floor to one side of the door to his office. The door stands locked, as it should be, for he never leaves for a lecture or a seminar without locking his office behind him, and there is no sign of anyone having tried to force it open to enter.</p><p>He stoops to pick up the box. That same slightly untidy, cursive scrawl adorns one of its faces, and it reads ... </p><p>
  <em>"Thank you for such a wonderful colloquium talk yesterday!"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Inside, he finds a lovely peach-coloured rose.</em>
</p><p>*********************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Geralt is explaining a new research problem to one of his young graduate students when he hears a soft knock on the door. He raises his voice slightly to call out a "Come in!", but no one does. He frowns, but does not bother to check. His mind soon meanders back into the world of red dwarves and white dwarves and a hundred other kinds of stars appearing in the Hertzsprung–Russell colour-magnitude plots, and he all but forgets about the quiet knock.</p><p>Not until his student steps out of his office and draws his attention to the small package that is left on his doorstep that he remembers. The student thinks it must be the mailman, and Geralt does not bother to correct her. After she leaves, he picks up the package and darts back inside his office, and locks the door lightning-fast. He refuses to admit how his fingers tremble as he hastily tears open the top of the package. </p><p>
  <em>He stares at the delicate lavender rose that peeks out of it ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>... and his heart skips a beat as he unfolds the little note that he finds next to the rose ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You enchant me, sweetheart!"</em>
</p><p>**********************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Geralt goes to the cafeteria alone the week that Yennefer leaves for a conference and Eskel and Lambert are busy organizing a workshop at the university. Every day of that week, he sits quietly at his usual spot, eats, and then leaves. He dons a light blazer to ward off the mild chill of a typical Mumbai winter, and every day, before he sits down to eat, he shrugs it off and drapes it over the back of his wooden chair.</p><p>One day, he forgets to fetch a glass of water, and rises from his seat midway through his lunch to walk to the drinking water dispenser. He comes back, finishes his meal, sets his tray down on an empty cart, and grabbing his blazer, heads out of the cafeteria.</p><p>And then, he feels the small bulge inside the chest-pocket of the blazer. He stops dead in his tracks, reaches into the pocket, and ...</p><p>
  <em>... pulls out a pale pink rose, soft petals caressing his calloused palm, and a small note folded next to it, and it reads ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"You are a joy to behold! Your grace makes my heart swell with happiness!"</em>
</p><p>*****************************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Geralt drops his favourite coffee mug - fashioned out of supple black ceramic with a matte finish and the image of the Crab Nebula, the remnant of the 1054 Supernova, imprinted on it - and it shatters into a million shards. The incident happens in full view of everyone in the common room, and everyone tuts and offers him insipid words of comfort. Geralt tries very hard to ignore the twinge he feels deep inside him - the mug had been a graduation gift from his Baba, Vesemir, and no other mug, no matter how expensive and fancy-looking, would ever be able to replace something that precious and cherished.</p><p>Another week later, he finds a hefty-looking parcel waiting for him in his office mailbox. He recognizes the handwriting on the label affixed to the parcel, and the frown that graces his forehead is really just a show of annoyance - something to mask the undeniable flare of anticipation he feels deep inside his heart. He brings it up to his office, and peels off the layers of bubble wrap inside it ...</p><p>
  <em>... to reveal a giant coffee mug sitting inside ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>... and Geralt realizes, with his heart beginning to race, that it bears a painting - one that has been brought forth by an incredibly meticulous and skilled hand, for he can see the minute imperfections that only serve to make it even more adorable ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>... and it depicts an inky black night sky strewn with countless white pinpricks - distant stars sprinkled all over the expanse like chips of shimmering diamonds ...</em></p><p><em>... and underneath it, seated side by side in an otherwise deserted field, are Calvin and Hobbes, their mesmerized eyes gazing up at the beautiful canopy overhead, and Calvin saying to his best friend, "If people sat outside and looked at the stars each night, I bet they'd live a lot differently."</em>
</p><p>*********************************************************************************************************************</p><p>The day Geralt hears that he is going to be awarded a national medal of excellence to recognize his contributions in astrophysics, he returns home later than usual. Like most of his colleagues, Geralt lives in a small but primly furnished apartment in the huge, sprawling faculty building that has been designed to accommodate as many faculty members as possible on-campus. The apartment is on the second floor of the building, and he foregoes the elevator in favour of the stairs. He pauses before he can turn the key in the lock, for his eyes descry the medium-sized cardboard box that sits right next to the door, nearly concealed in shadow. Geralt gulps audibly. Then, opening the door, he pulls the box inside and softly shuts the door behind him, locking it. </p><p>Flicking on the light switch and turning on the ceiling fan, he flops unceremoniously down on the floor and hurriedly slices the sticky tapes open with a paper knife. And inside ...</p><p>
  <em>... he finds an entire bouquet of fresh, dainty, vibrant orange roses, and a note that bears the handwriting that Geralt is fairly certain he will now be able to recognize anywhere in the world ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"I am so, so proud of you, my darling! May you shine like the brightest star in the sky, lighting up my entire world!"</em>
</p><p>****************************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Geralt usually doesn't acquiesce to a celebration on the occasion of his birthday, but this time, he allows his three best friends to drag him to a restaurant for a lavish dinner. But Yennefer, by far the most perceptive of the four musketeers, quickly realizes that his heart is not really in the delectable Gujarati meal, nor in the merry conversation around the table.</p><p>Geralt is aware that Yennefer suspects something is up with him these days. But no matter how hard he tries, he really cannot mask his distraction. His heart keeps wandering off, and he cannot help but speculate if his unknown, unnamed admirer happens to know that it is his birthday, and whether his mysterious suitor is perhaps thinking of him, perhaps missing him, perhaps preparing a gift for him ...</p><p>He comes home to a parcel. He waits long enough to slam the door shut, and then he swoops down to the floor, and his fingers shake as he peels off the outer wrapping ...</p><p>
  <em>... to bring out a beautifully patterned paper box, fastened with a glossy golden ribbon, containing an assortment of handmade dark-chocolate-and-almond laddoos and chocolate-and-coconut burfis sprinkled with pistachio bits ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>... a bouquet comprising roses that are a vivid shade of red and roses that are the purest shade of white ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>... and a beautiful greeting card, inside which he finds just a few lines ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Happy birthday, dear heart! May this day dawn every year for many, many, many years to come, bringing joy, hope and strength to you. May you have all the happiness this world has to offer. And just in case you have not figured it out already, my love - you have my heart. You have it for all eternity. I am yours - now and forevermore."</em>
</p><p>**********************************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Jaskier feigns a deep interest in the spicy cauliflower curry and buttery paneer masala while his ears perk up in an attempt to listen to the conversation happening at the table next to his own.</p><p>In particular, he wants to know what it is that Yennefer's saying, that's making Geralt smile so demurely.</p><p>"I think he is an excellent match for Geralt. What do you say, Eskel?", booms Yennefer, her eyes sparkling in excitement, teeth flashing in an almost predatory smile.</p><p>Eskel nods enthusiastically, while Lambert pipes up and says, "Did you see the two of them, hand in hand? Gosh, Geralt, I think I have never seen you blush quite that furiously, mate!"</p><p>"And you two looked absolutely perfect together. I think you really should ask Vesemir Chacha to broach the topic of your betrothal the next time he meets your lovely boyfriend's parents", drawls Eskel, and slaps Geralt affectionately on the shoulder. </p><p>Geralt smiles shyly down at his plate.</p><p>Jaskier's eyes begin to smart with a strange stinging sensation, and he blinks furiously, hoping it would suffice to stall the tears. He swallows with difficulty, pushing past the huge lump that has suddenly materialized in his throat, and he stabs viciously at the paneer cubes and the cauliflower florets as if they have caused him some great personal offense, yet he is unable to bring himself to put another morsel in his mouth.</p><p>He hears Yennefer continue to speak in a high-pitched voice that carries quite a bit farther than the neighbouring tables, "I wonder where the wedding ceremony's going to take place. Will it be in Chennai? Or here in Mumbai? Eskel, what will you like to wear? A sherwani, perhaps? I am thinking a nice Kanchipuram silk saree ...", and Geralt cuts her short with a mild reprimand of "Oh come on, Yen! Don't get carried away yet ..."</p><p>And Jaskier cannot help the soft sniffle, nor the scorching tears that spill over and streak down his cheeks like little rivulets. His lips wobble like autumn leaves, and the hand that holds the spoon shakes, and he barely manages to grab his plate of food and head towards the exit ...</p><p>************************************************************************************************************************************</p><p>Jaskier feels exhaustion seeping through his bones. It has been a very, very long day today. He has had to proctor and then grade a midterm examination, work on wrapping up a solo publication, address the referee's razor-sharp criticisms in the review of another of his papers, and teach two rather large classes full of unruly undergraduates. Not to mention that he is thoroughly sleep-deprived - the last couple of nights he has cried himself into a fitful, restless stupor that, instead of rejuvenating him, has left him even more drained and dejected.</p><p>Especially fatiguing has been the task of confining himself to his office almost the entirety of his working hours in the past two days, bringing homecooked lunch with him and refusing himself even a cursory visit to the common room for a refreshing cup of coffee. All because he has resolved to avoid setting his eyes on a certain white-haired, irresistibly attractive associate professor for as long as he can help it.</p><p>The elevator in the faculty residential building isn't functioning very smoothly, and Jaskier sighs as he turns towards the staircase. His apartment is on the fourth floor, but there is nothing for it but to begin climbing. He forces his knees to bend, and tries not to flinch as his back screams in protest underneath the weight of his laptop-containing knapsack.</p><p>He sees stars by the time he has reached the landing of the second floor. He groans as the dull throbbing headache that has been plaguing him all day long now builds to a full-blown, excruciating pain around the temples and at the back of his right cerebral hemisphere. He sways, his trembling knees refusing to support the weight of his body any longer ...</p><p>
  <em>And just before he passes out, Jaskier feels more than sees a pair of burly arms close around his waist, encircling him and holding onto him and not letting him crumple to the floor ...</em>
</p><p>And then, a thick curtain of fog descends in front of his eyes, and everything goes dark.</p><p>*******************************************************************************************************************</p><p>The first thing that Jaskier's mind registers is the press of some kind of soft fabric, soaked wet and soothingly cool, to the flushed, heated skin of his forehead, helping alleviate the throbbing pain, and someone's fingers tenderly parting his hair, softly caressing his head, massaging his temples very, very gently. And the first thing he hears is the pleasant hum of a deep baritone voice. </p><p>"Welcome back!", the voice rumbles softly as his eyelids flutter, and Jaskier basks in an inexplicable feeling of warmth and security enveloping him. </p><p>
  <em>And as he blinks his eyes open, he finds himself staring straight into two molten pools of gold - two deep-amber irises that are flecked with gold and that glimmer as they catch the warm glow of the subdued light suffusing the room ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>... and Jaskier thinks that he has never seen eyes more beautiful, more alluring, more fathomless and pensive and soulful ...</em>
</p><p>He admires them silently, utterly lost in their depths, until his attention snaps to their owner.</p><p>
  <em>Shit!</em>
</p><p>"Hi there!", says Geralt, and that dear, beautiful, grumpy face splits into a soft, shy smile. Jaskier nearly melts, and his brain - admittedly still a bit sluggish and mushy - thinks that it has never seen a smile this sweet and cute and charming.</p><p>The mathematician stares up at the physicist with his mouth slightly ajar and eyes round as saucers, and his breaths come rapid as his heartrate hastens. He is quite literally at a loss for words, and he gapes shamelessly, as if he can never ever have enough of the man in front of him, as if he wants nothing more than to drown in those amber-gold orbs.</p><p>His reaction elicits an amused chuckle from Geralt. His eyes grow a shade warmer as he very lightly, very gently, and with incredible tenderness, musses up Jaskier's hair. Jaskier's eyelids flutter as he leans into that warm, loving caress, unable to help himself. Geralt lifts the washcloth off Jaskier's brow, dips it in a bowl of ice-cold water, and wringing it thoroughly, folds it and presses it back onto Jaskier's forehead. </p><p>"You were running a slight fever. I thought this would help. Are you feeling any better?"</p><p>Jaskier silently nods. His heart swells with a weird concoction of love and joy and pain and wistful longing, and he feels tears well up in his eyes. He tries so very hard to stop them but the traitorous tears leak out the corners of his eyes and run down his temples. </p><p>Geralt frowns. His calloused thumbs come up to wipe away the tears, lingering for a fraction of a second on Jaskier's long wet lashes, and this gesture just makes it doubly hard for Jaskier to hold back a full-fledged sob.</p><p>"What hurts?"</p><p>"Nothing", croaks Jaskier, voice thick with tears.</p><p>Geralt's hands slide down from Jaskier's temples to cup his face, even as the mathematician resolutely keeps his eyes squeezed shut in a vain attempt to hold back a fresh torrent of tears. Jaskier feels the rough, calloused palms sear his skin where they press down so reverently upon his cheeks. The pads of the physicist's thumbs gently fondle Jaskier's cheekbones and his wobbling lips, and it is all that the mathematician can do to not whimper plaintively under that sweet, loving touch.</p><p>"Please ... please tell me what hurts", Geralt implores, and Jaskier thinks his heart would explode from the earnest note of beseeching in the older man's voice, from the way Geralt's voice quavers from a fervent need to know - to be reassured - that Jaskier would not push him away, would not refuse to confide in him.</p><p>"J-just the head. Th-the back of my head", Jaskier admits, stammering slightly as he slowly blinks open his eyes once again and looks up at Geralt.</p><p>He does not think he could have ever conceived of the stoical, reclusive, terse, dour-faced associate professor wearing such a raw, openly vulnerable expression. </p><p>"Then please do not cry. Crying would exacerbate the pain."</p><p>"O-okay", hiccups Jaskier.</p><p>"I'll be right back", Geralt declares as he abruptly rises to his feet, and Jaskier can barely suppress a piteous whine of protest at the loss of contact between his skin and Geralt's. "Please do not get up", the physicist adds in a pleading tone before hurrying out of the room, disappearing through a curtained doorway that Jaskier surmises leads to the kitchen.</p><p>Jaskier lies still, his exhausted body sinking further into the plush upholstery, and he marvels at all the surprises life is capable of springing on people, and how utterly powerless people are in the face of the whims and vagaries of destiny. All this time, Jaskier has tried so hard to shower Geralt with endless love and adoration, without ever confronting the man and confessing his feelings out loud, and now, destiny has made sure that he faints in the arms of none other than Geralt, that he is left with no choice but to lie here on Geralt's plush sofa, in Geralt's tastefully furnished living room, and be taken care of by the beloved, grumpy, darling physicist himself.</p><p>It is while he is lost in his musings that Jaskier's eyes land on a transparent vase of cut-glass filled partially with water, standing on a cabinet next to the sofa, and it contains ...</p><p>
  <em>... a thick bunch of brilliant red and sparkling white roses, just barely starting to wilt around the edges of the outermost petals, and still quite strongly fragrant ...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>... and he immediately recognizes them to be the roses that he anonymously gifted Geralt on his birthday, five days back!</em>
</p><p>Jaskier gulps, suddenly dreadfully nervous. He raises himself slightly on his elbow and his eyes search his surroundings frantically, and they soon discover the rather large framed picture that hangs on the wall opposite the sofa.</p><p>
  <em>Except that it is not a picture. It is an artwork made by arranging several pressed and dried bright orange roses, a peach rose, a lavender rose, a pink rose and a yellow rose in a remarkably pretty fractal-like pattern on a stark black background, dotted here and there with still-quite-glossy, dark-green-hued rose leaves.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And every single one of those flowers had been a lovingly handpicked, thoughtful present from Jaskier to Geralt.</em>
</p><p>Geralt chooses to reappear at that precise moment, balancing a small tray in his hands. His eyes follow Jaskier's gaze to the floral artwork on the wall, and he visibly brightens, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips and a twinkle in his golden eyes.</p><p>"Ah! That! Yes!", Geralt's voice sounds tremulous, but Jaskier can distinctly hear the undertone of mirth and happiness in that lovely baritone, "Couldn't come up with a better idea on how to preserve so many beautiful roses."</p><p>"It's - it's beautiful!", Jaskier stutters a bit but manages to get out the words, and hopes ardently that Geralt would not notice the blush creeping up his skin.</p><p>"I know, right? They are all presents from ... well, someone who knows me very well indeed. Because I <em>love</em> roses. All kinds of roses. <em>Especially</em> in the shades that he chose for me."</p><p>"Oh!", Jaskier squeaks, as Geralt gingerly puts the tray down on the low, glass-topped coffee table and then perches himself on one corner of the sofa, and Jaskier almost sighs from the warm presence of Geralt leaning against his thighs.</p><p>"Here - I warmed up some milk with turmeric, honey and cinnamon. This ought to help with the headache as well as the fever. Here", with that, Geralt picks up the glass and hands it to Jaskier, who narrowly avoids dropping it in his state of bemused daze. Slowly, with his eyes still wide with bewilderment (and no small amount of affection and adoration towards Geralt, though he doubts whether Geralt can tell), Jaskier brings the glass to his lips and sips on the deliciously warm, sweet and spicy draught. It tingles his tongue and soothes his throat (his vocal chords having been chafed raw by the long hours of lectures delivered in huge auditorium halls during the day and long hours of crying during the night). Within seconds, the age-old home remedy starts to take effect, working to mitigate the nasty feverish feeling and taking the edge off the throbbing, pulsing pain behind his eyes and in his temples.</p><p>Jaskier finishes the milk in silence, trying to ignore the way a couple of intense amber-gold orbs stay trained on his face, the way a large, calloused hand rests lightly on the soft shawl that covers his legs, and most of all how his own heart flutters around like a frantic, caged hummingbird in his chest.</p><p>Once the glass is empty, Geralt extends his hand and takes it from Jaskier. </p><p>
  <em>And Jaskier, like the forgetful moron he is, smacks his lips in utter contentment!</em>
</p><p>And immediately blushes the deepest shade of magenta imaginable.</p><p>"I take it you enjoyed that, hmm?", Geralt smirks, and his eyes gleam with so many complex emotions, but perhaps the most evident of them all are the twinkle of mischief and limitless fondness for the younger man in front of him.</p><p>Jaskier nods weakly, and Geralt's smile widens.</p><p>"Here. Some nice coconut burfi for you to try. It's not often that I share with others gifts I have received from someone so special and precious to me, but in this case, I am willing to make an exception."</p><p>Jaskier stares at the very familiar looking chocolate-coconut burfi that sits on the proffered china plate. </p><p>"S-someone sp-special?", he asks, his throat suddenly feeling unreasonably parched and tight, his breaths becoming rapid, and a leaden weight of suspicion and dread settling upon his heart, "W-who?"</p><p>"There's someone. The love of my life", Geralt states cheerfully, eyes never leaving the now visibly paled face of the mathematician, "The same one who gave me those flowers I framed. And those, in that vase."</p><p>"T-the l-love of your ... y-you mean your b-boyfriend?", the young mathematician stammers, and Geralt smiles triumphantly.</p><p>"Uh-huh! That's the one. Others call him my boyfriend, but I prefer "love of my life" - far more apt a description of who he is to me - what he means to me - you see. He is my world."</p><p>Jaskier slumps, his head drooping, eyes downcast. "The one you're going to marry", he states flatly, his voice sounding bleak and strained and all traces of cautious hope from a moment ago erased from his tone.</p><p>"Exactly right."</p><p>"You think <em>he</em> is the one who's giving you these gifts", says Jaskier, and it no longer sounds like a question. Just an observation made by an utterly despondent, defeated human being.</p><p>"Who else would it be?", Geralt asks innocently, sounding genuinely intrigued, "Of course it's him. Oh, the things he writes in the notes he leaves me! My heart soars every time I read them. Here."</p><p>"I - I should go", says Jaskier, sounding utterly crestfallen, and moves to hoist himself off the sofa, but he is stalled by Geralt's palm pressed gently onto his chest.</p><p>"Why? You don't enjoy my company?"</p><p>Jaskier stares up at Geralt, looking equal parts resigned and nonplussed. Geralt still has that annoyingly cute smirk plastered on his face, and suddenly, Jaskier can't take it anymore.</p><p>"Why on earth would you want <em>my</em> company, huh? You have your boyfriend to swoon over and spend all your time with, don't you?", he nearly lashes out in a manner that is completely at odds with his usually mild, sweet, nonconfrontational nature, his tone bitter and angry tears beginning to prick his eyes.</p><p>"Well, I prefer to swoon over my boyfriend when he is present, so he can see how hopelessly in love with him I am", Geralt says sweetly, his smirk dissolving into a loving, shy smile, and a soft blush colouring his cheeks, as he persuades Jaskier into lying back on the couch. Both his palms clutch the younger man's arms as if he is afraid Jaskier would disappear if he lets go.</p><p>"Wh-wha--?"</p><p>"I thought you wrote that I light up your entire world. And now <em>you</em> wish to leave, making <em>my</em> entire world go dark?"</p><p>Jaskier's mouth falls open. And his eyeballs nearly protrude out of their sockets. And it's a miracle that his mind is still able to function, withstanding the shock.</p><p>"H-how? How l-long h-have you ..."</p><p>"Since the moment I saw you leave the cafeteria, distraught and tearful."</p><p>"Y-you saw? N-noticed?"</p><p>"Of course! That was the whole point, after all, of that fake-boyfriend conversation", Geralt says triumphantly, and Jaskier gapes at the ear-to-ear impish grin that now lights up the physicist's countenance.</p><p>"You mean you ... you ...", Jaskier sputters, and Geralt throws his head back in a hearty laugh that steals Jaskier's breath away, making the mathematician wonder if anyone has ever managed to look quite that delectable and handsome in a simple pair of pajamas and a baggy threadbare punjabi while lounging casually on their couch and guffawing their head off.</p><p>"I am so sorry, my dearest Jaskier, but I had to know for sure. I guessed, of course - it is not so easy, my darling, ingenious mathematician, to hoodwink your favourite astrophysicist -  I have long entertained the hunch that it's you, and then Yen suggested that this would be one of the best ways to confirm my suspicion. And it worked! Right from the moment you came and sat down next to us and began eating your lunch, I made sure to keep an eye on you, and then ..."</p><p>"And then you saw me crying and you ... and you ...", Jaskier cannot find it in him to complete the sentence, and breaks down, "And I ... I thought you ... you have someone else ..."</p><p>Geralt rushes forward, and scoops Jaskier up in his arms.</p><p>"Shush, Jaskier, baby, shush!", Geralt rocks the wretchedly sobbing mathematician back and forth, cocooning him in the confines of his chest, while his own eyes brim with tears, "I am so sorry, Jaskier - I never ever intended to cause you pain, baby! I just ... oh gosh ... what have I done!"</p><p>His own voice cracks, and that makes Jaskier hug him tighter, and burrow his face further into that broad, muscular chest.</p><p>"It's okay, baby, I know ... I know you would never deliberately seek to hurt me ... I cannot even imagine such a thing", Jaskier's voice comes out muffled and thick with tears, but he has never sounded more sincere in his life, and Geralt feels his heart swell with relief, and no small amount of hope and trust and love, knowing that he has been forgiven.</p><p>"Oh Jaskier ... please forgive me, love ... I just wanted to make sure ... and then these last two days, I have been trying to find a window of opportunity to speak with you, but I never once saw you ... and then Eskel mentioned that you were busy with midterms and ..."</p><p>They stay in each other's arms for several long minutes, loath to let go, loath to move even an inch away from one another's warm, soothing presence. Jaskier rests his head against Geralt's thin-punjabi-clad chest, the side of his face that is pressed flush against Geralt's skin pleasantly tickled by the thicket of hair on his lover's chest. Geralt tucks Jaskier's head underneath his chin, and his arms keep Jaskier anchored, his fingers rubbing circles on Jaskier's back. He inhales deeply in the mathematician's lovely chamomile and dandelion scent, occasionally planting soft kisses on the silky-smooth chestnut-brown hair on Jaskier's head.</p><p>"May I say something?"</p><p>Jaskier relishes the way he can feel Geralt's voice rumble through his chest, and how the steady heartbeat right next to his ear suddenly grows thunderous as Geralt speaks.</p><p>"Of course, love!"</p><p>"I would have been ... I would have been so devastated if my anonymous admirer had turned out to be someone else, Jaskier."</p><p>And that is enough to make Jaskier pry himself off his beloved physicist's chest and look up, his eyes wide with sheer disbelief as they look into Geralt's amber-gold ones.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Geralt's face dips down, and his eyes become downcast, and a shy, hesitant, adorably unsure smile appears on his lips.</p><p>"I never could tell you, dearest ... but ever since I laid my eyes on you ... it was your very first day of appointment, and I had just walked into the common room with Yen to refill my coffee mug, and I saw you chatting with Prof. Verma close by the coffee machine ... you didn't see me, of course ... but I ... I was so ..."</p><p>"That's when I saw you!", Jaskier nearly shouts, his voice easily climbing an octave as he bounces up and down on the sofa, his incredulous excitement and giddy happiness palpable, "That's when I ... oh my goodness! That's precisely when I fell for you ... you were ... you stole my heart ..."</p><p>"And you mine!", Geralt chimes in, equally pumped up with enthusiasm and exuberance, his face beaming with a smile sunnier than any Jaskier has ever seen so far on the man, "I had to force myself to look away ... pretend that I had not seen you ..."</p><p>And Jaskier can't help himself anymore.</p><p>His hands automatically come up to rest on either side of Geralt's neck, and he does not miss the way the physicist's breaths hitch. And he cups that regally beautiful face, and pulls it down towards himself, and Geralt complies, his eyes falling closed ...</p><p>
  <em>... and their lips meet midway, locking as if they were long-sundered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and the world fades away as the professors lose themselves in their first impassioned, breathless kiss ...</em>
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